


If We Do This

by NobodyAtAll



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: District 12, F/M, Hayffie, Post-Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6752287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobodyAtAll/pseuds/NobodyAtAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Panem's population is dwindling since the Second Rebellion. In order to save the human race, under President Paylor, a law is voted in: Every person between the ages of 16-45 shall be required to reproduce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Panem’s population is diminishing. Studies conducted since the Second Rebellion have shown that the species is in danger of dying out, if the population does not increase exponentially. And so, a law is voted into place:
> 
> Every person over the age of 16, but younger than the age of 35 must produce at least two children (the first within 3 years time). Every person aged 35 to 44 must produce at least one child (within 1 year). Blood testing will be done to verify paternity of the child. Anyone who fails to conceive within the allotted time will participate in the Mandatory Laboratory Conception Program.

“There you are, my darlings, it’s been too long!” 

Effie hurried forward toward to embrace her kids. Peeta got to her first, and threw his arms around her. “We’ve missed you, Effie.”

“I missed you, too, my dear.”

Katniss stepped in as Peeta let go, and Effie hugged the girl tightly. “How are you, my girl?”

“Glad to see you,” she answered. 

Katniss released her, smiling. Effie touched her cheek. “You look well.” She looked at Peeta. “You both do.”

Peeta grinned. “Thanks, Effie. You look like you’re doing good, too.”

“Thank you, dear,” she answered graciously. In truth, she looked significantly more plain than they’d ever seen her, she was certain. Nevertheless, last time she’d been to Twelve, she had still been underweight and suffering from insomnia, so maybe she did look better.

The kids parted, and Effie looked past them. 

“Hey, Effie.”

Her eyes locked with familiar gray ones. “Haymitch.” She pushed down the nerves that fluttered up in her stomach and stepped forward to him. Thankfully, he extended his arms to her and she gladly embraced him. 

The familiarity of the hug had a soothing effect on her, and she was disappointed when he pulled back. “You look different,” he commented with a little smile.

“Yes, well - one must adapt with the trends, you know,” she answered. The crisp white dress she wore was only accented by a bright turquoise collar, and her hair, while not its natural color, was at least visible. Wigs were no longer financially practical, though everyone in the newly-minted Panem City claimed it was a fashion movement to return to natural hair. Her makeup was more subdued, and the foundation mimicked her natural skin tone. She was even wearing three-inch heels.

Haymitch didn’t give an opinion one way or the other; he simply smirked. “Of course one must.” Effie thought, though, that he looked pleasantly surprised.

They smiled at each other without saying anything for just a beat too long. “Well,” Effie said brightly, overcompensating for the pause, “I’m so glad to see all of you. You must all fill me in on what’s happened in Twelve since I last saw you.”

They all walked together from the train station, through town and up the road to the Victor’s Village, though the sign had been removed, Effie noticed. Katniss and Peeta filled her in on the local news - the new medicine factory, rebuilding the town, Haymitch’s geese. Haymitch chimed in every so often to add a snarky opinion.

Peeta went on ahead to drop Effie’s bag at Haymitch’s house. “We have the guest room at his place all set up for you,” Peeta commented.

“Hope that’s okay,” Haymitch added nonchalantly.

Effie hoped that she wasn’t blushing at brightly as it felt. “Of course that’s all right; why wouldn’t it be?” She smiled brightly. “I like the idea that your house gets cleaned at least once every few years.”

Dinner was at Katniss and Peeta’s house, and Effie was glad to see that her first impression had been right - they were both doing amazingly better. They had fallen into a nice rhythm with each other. Katniss was still not the best conversationalist, but there was vast improvement from the severe depression she’d been in last time.

As for Haymitch, he was clearly in a good mood. The sarcastic comments were kept to a minimum, or at least, they were generally made in good humor.

After they had an amazing apple tart that Peeta had baked for the occasion, and sat around the table talking for another hour or so, Haymitch announced that he was turning in for the night and stood up. “You coming, or are you hanging with the kids for a bit?” he asked her.

Effie arched an eyebrow at him. “As much as I would like to _hang with the kids_ ,” she said ironically, “I think I’d better come over and get settled. It’s been a long day.”

They said goodnight and went over to the other house. “I’m having a drink; you want one?” Haymitch asked.

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea,” Effie replied.

Haymitch threw her a dirty look over his shoulder. “Because that’s obviously what I meant.”

“Well never mind, if it’s too much trouble,” she said.

He moved toward the kitchen, smirking. “No, no, can’t have you thinking I’m not a proper host.”

Effie smiled sweetly. “Thank you.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Effie made herself comfortable in the living room. Finally, several minutes of clinking and plunking around in the kitchen later, Haymitch reappeared with her tea in one hand and his glass of whiskey in the other.

“Haymitch,” she said warmly, “An actual teacup with a saucer! I’m so proud!”

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it,” he said. “I’m still me.”

“So,” he said conversationally, seating himself in the armchair opposite her, “You’ve been overly cheerful so far. Tell me all the news that you didn’t consider to be ‘polite dinner conversation.’”

Effie shifted in her seat. He knew her awfully well. “Things are fairly tense in the City right now,” Effie told him.

Haymitch swirled the liquid around in his glass. 

“The Baby Boom law is causing all sorts of problems there.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes and immediately became agitated. “That law,” he spit out. “Well what did they expect? You turn people in baby-factories and treat them like livestock, and of course they’re freaking out. The whole thing is insane. It’s almost as bad as the Games.”

“I’ve heard all sorts of whispers. From what I’ve heard it’s causing rapes, suicides... It’s not good,” she said.

Haymitch grimaced, and shook his head. “Not to mention everybody having unprotected sex - pretty soon the entire population of Panem’s gonna have the clap.”

Effie bit her lip. This wasn’t a situation she could make light of. 

“Thank god the kids have another couple years before they’re affected by it,” Haymitch commented. “By then, it ought to be repealed. There’s no way it’ll last.”

_Time_ , she thought. _A luxury that I don’t have._

“Shit’s gonna hit the fan soon.”

She looked at him. “You think?”

“For sure. The first deadline just passed. We’ll see how they handle enforcing it.” He was scowling. “I don’t see how they’ll do it without getting Peacekeepers involved.”

“You think there’ll be another war?” she asked quietly.

Haymitch’s mouth pressed into a firm line, and he shrugged. “Don’t know. Would certainly be ironic, wouldn’t it? Killing a bunch of people in the name of increasing the population?”

Effie was surprised he hadn’t commented on _her_ specifically, yet. Maybe it was too awkward for him to bring up. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. “I don’t think I have the fortitude to stand against the law again,” she admitted.

Haymitch looked at her strangely.

Why was he looking at her like that? “I don’t want to personally test how they’ll handle enforcing it,” she explained.

He continued to appear confused for a moment, and then suddenly sat forward in his chair.

“How old _are_ you?”

Effie bristled. “Young enough to meet the requirements, unfortunately. How old did you _think_ I was?”

Haymitch got defensive. “I don’t know, I never thought about it really. I guess I assumed we were the same age.”

“Well we’re not.”

He paused for a moment. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“Honestly, Haymitch, it’s not the most important thing in the world at the moment. Suffice it to say I am young enough that the government expects me to produce a child.”

“Shit,” he uttered, staring at her. “I can see why you didn’t bring this up at dinner.” Fire burned in his eyes. “Wait it out. They’re banking on people’s cooperation for this to work.”

“I can’t take the risk. The law isn’t going to be overturned in two months, and that’s how long I have.”

“Why, what’s gonna happen in two months?”

“I’ve received notice for my insemination.”

Haymitch looked thunderstruck. “Your _what_?”

Effie felt herself turning red, and took a steadying breath. “Don’t make me say it again,” she said in a whisper. She broke eye contact with him and set her teacup down on the end-table. 

“Holy... fuck,” he cursed, staring. His forehead was furrowed. “Effie, I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged unconvincingly. “To be honest... I’ve accepted the idea of having a child. It seems there’s no way out of it.”

“So you’re going to go through with it?” he said in surprise.

"I don't really see that I have a choice." Effie shook her head. “But I can’t bear the thought of carrying around some anonymous donor’s child inside me, forcibly implanted there by the government. It’s too...” She felt herself getting panicky, and took a slow breath. She couldn’t even finish that thought.

Haymitch’s face was frozen in a grimace. 

“I’ve been approached by several different men in the City about it. A few weren’t even that awful, but...” She broke off, trying to think of how to explain. “No matter how I try to convince myself that it’s better than the alternative, it still feels ...alien. And what if the man then turns out to be a nightmare? People can fool you. What if he seems fine but turns out to be completely horrible after we have a child? Then I can’t get him out of my life, ever! And my child would share his genetics!”

Haymitch shook his head and took a long drink. 

“It’s all I can think about; all the time. It’s consuming my life.”

“Well of course it is. Your life doesn’t belong to you, anymore,” Haymitch said bitterly. “It’s just like when the Games were going on. Like the whole revolution was for nothing.”

“That’s not true,” Effie said softly. “You know that’s not true.” Haymitch sneered and shook his head, but Effie caught his gaze. “One hundred thirty-eight. That’s how many children would have been murdered by now, if the Games were still on. And twelve of them would have been ours.”

Haymitch frowned, but he didn’t argue. 

Effie licked her lips. She hadn’t found a natural way to introduce what she _needed_ to say into the conversation. It was getting to the point that she was afraid she’d let it go if she didn’t just come out and say it. 

“The thing is... I think with the right person, having a baby might be all right,” she intimated. “But when I think about the right person, there’s only one person who comes to mind. The only person who really makes any sense, at all, ...is you.”

Haymitch became completely still. Her words hovered in the silence between them, and Effie was half-sick waiting to hear his reaction. His face was a complete blank. Unreadable. 

She couldn’t bear the tension any longer. “We have history, Haymitch; we could make it work.”

He still didn’t speak. He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, his forehead creased.

“So your whole reason for coming to Twelve was to convince me to put a baby in you,” he said finally.

Effie’s stomach flip-flopped. “I came to _talk_ to you,” she amended.

“About putting a baby in you.”

“Stop saying that,” she insisted.

They stared at each other silently. Haymitch’s scowl deepened the creases in his face. “What’ll they do if you just don’t show up? Have they told you?”

Effie looked at him blankly.

“You know, at the lab... for the _thing_.”

He meant the insemination. “I don’t know exactly, but...” She could think of dozens of things that might happen. After being held prisoner by the Capitol for almost a year, she didn’t even need an imagination to come up with what the government might do to her. She suddenly felt cold.

The next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes and Haymitch’s warm hands were clasped around hers. She lifted her chin slightly from where it was tucked down against her chest, and was embarrassed to realize that she was shaking and clammy. “I’m sorry, I...” She trailed off, at a loss.

Haymitch shushed her. “You shouldn’t have to be afraid of the government,” he voiced roughly. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

Effie counted out her breathing, trying to still her shivering body. _Inhale, two, three, four; exhale, two, three, four._

“I can’t risk finding out how they’ll enforce it,” she said when she was a little less shaky. “...Even though this isn’t Snow’s administration. It’s President Paylor. Whom we _both_ voted for,” she reminded him.

Haymitch grunted.

She wasn’t sure why, but for some reason his grunt almost made her smile. Almost. It was such a _Haymitch_ sound. Maybe, she considered, she had missed him more than she realized. 

He looked troubled, and tired. And older, she suddenly discerned. Not ancient, just older. The creases in his face were more defined. The grey in his hair was more conspicuous. He had the look of a man who felt his age.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been good about keeping in touch,” she apologized. “I don’t have a decent excuse.”

Haymitch glanced up at her, and shrugged. “You’ve had other things to think about.”

“Not enough to excuse two years’ silence,” she maintained.

He shrugged again, and returned his focus to their hands. “I was glad to hear from you,” he admitted.

Effie felt some warmth flow back into her. She squeezed his fingers where they curled into her palms, and held on tightly. 

They had left things in such an uncertain place, when they’d parted last. She’d visited Twelve, just as she’d promised she would when Haymitch and Katniss had first left the Capitol ( _No, Panem City_ , she corrected herself), but things with Haymitch had been hesitant. Around the children and in the presence of others he’d behaved warmly toward her, and treated her like a dear friend, which of course meant they picked on each other and bantered as usual. She’d stayed in his guest bedroom, at his invitation. 

But when they were alone together, things had been strained. He barely spoke. He was distant. And yet every night he had come to her room and kissed her, and spent the night. They’d never discussed what was happening, or how they felt. At the end of the week, he had hugged her goodbye at the train platform, and that had been that. She got on the train and went home.

Haymitch let out something like a sigh, and ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands. He lifted his gaze and said quietly, “It’s not right.”

His voice brought her back into the present. “It’s a lot to ask, I know,” she replied.

He made an annoyed face. “It’s not just that; it’s wrong. The whole thing. Messin’ around with people’s lives.”

“You wouldn’t have to be very involved,” Effie suggested gently. “I’m not asking you to raise a family with me. Just...”

“Just _impregnate_ you, hm?” he said indelicately.

“Haymitch,” she admonished him. 

“What? That’s what you’re asking for, right? That’s what you’re being _forced_ to ask me for?”

“Yes, I suppose so!” she conceded. “And knowing you as I do, I’m sure you want to stand on principle, but I need your help. For my sake, just consider it. Please.”

He scowled again, and squeezed her hands a little too hard. “I don’t want a kid. And I certainly don’t want a kid of mine raised in the Capitol.”

“There is no more Capitol,” she reminded him.

“Bullshit,” he sneered, letting go of her hands. He stood up and paced over into the foyer. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” he said, grabbing his jacket and throwing it on, “But this place is fucking suffocating. I need some air.” He escaped out the front door and left her to sit alone in his empty living room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind reviews. Hope you enjoy chapter 2.

Haymitch had not slept much at all.

In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, he’d been up at the crack of dawn. He’d made himself coffee, partly to wake up and partly because he was accustomed to having a drink in his hand. He'd gone out and fed the geese, come back in, washed the couple of dishes in the sink, finally he ate some bread because he had no idea when Effie was ever going to get up; and he had been hanging around nervously in the kitchen ever since. 

Peeta and Katniss had stopped in to say good morning, but they wanted to get to the bakery and couldn’t wait around for Effie too long. Haymitch had sent them on their way. If they suspected anything was wrong, they hadn’t let on about it. And so he was left alone to wade through the mire of his thoughts.

Last night had been miserable.

He’d spent hours walking aimlessly through the Seam, fuming at the entire situation. At first he’d been angry at Effie for getting him involved, but his fury at President Paylor far exceeded it. People he knew and cared about had fought and died to get Snow out of power, and yet here they were again. How could Paylor, of all people, after everything they had gone through in the revolution, not understand what a violation of rights this was? It seemed no one could lead Panem without reducing the citizens to less-than-human status.

He was in a terrible position, though, and he knew it. Effie was trapped in this whole baby-making scheme; he, on the other hand, at the ripe old age of 46, was not. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to walk away from it. After all, it wasn’t his problem. Effie had been right, too - he _did_ want to stand on principle; refuse to cooperate with an unjust law.

But Effie had been right on another count, too - they _did_ have history. A more complicated history than she was making it sound, but still, he couldn’t be completely detached from the situation. For lack of a better word, it would be shitty of him to refuse her without at least giving it real consideration. Effie was the only person he had been with in a very long time; he now suspected the inadvertent monogamy was mutual; and if he was being honest with himself, the thought of her having a baby with someone else bothered him.

Of course, the thought of her having _his_ baby made him queasy with terror.

He couldn’t just blow off the request, though. He’d left her to her fate once before, and that particular incident had resulted in her capture, imprisonment, interrogation and torture. It had not been his choice - but it had happened. They’d somehow managed to work through that, once the war was over, _somehow_. But he doubted, if he abandoned her again, that she could forgive him a second time.

But _guilt_ was also not a good reason to become a father. Especially for a person who’d purposely spent his entire life as a recluse.

He finally heard her coming down the stairs, and he looked up toward the doorway. She appeared, looking - Haymitch cringed at himself for thinking the word, but it was the only one that came to mind - _lovely_. How many years had he wished, in vain, for a fashion trend like this; how was it fair that it was only happening now? Without all that paint and nonsense, he could actually _see_ how beautiful she was.

It didn’t make the situation easier.

“Good morning,” Effie said, quietly for her.

“Just barely,” he replied, glancing at his watch. “You want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” she answered wearily. He got up and went over to the stove. “I’m sorry I overslept. I must still be on City time. There is a three-hour difference, you know.”

“I’m aware,” he said sardonically, pouring hot water from the kettle into the coffee press.

Effie seated herself in one of the kitchen chairs. She was uncharacteristically quiet, but he wasn’t surprised.

“Listen,” he said, clearing his throat. “About last night.”

Her bright blue eyes flicked over to him.

He cleared his throat. “I need time to process this whole thing.”

Her forehead furrowed. “Meaning what, exactly?”

Haymitch leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. “Meaning that I don’t have an answer for you.And it might take some time until I do.”

Effie’s face brightened. “So, you are considering it?”

Haymitch sighed, and turned back to fix her coffee. “I don’t know. I don’t know _what_ I’m doing.” He glanced back over at her, and the expression he saw on her face was _way_ too optimistic. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned.

“No, of course not,” she replied. “It’s just that last night it sounded like you were very adamantly against it.”

“Yeah, well...” Haymitch shrugged, and brought her coffee over to the table. “That was my gut instinct. Which generally serves me very well, so, like I said...” He gave her a harsh look. “Don’t get all _hopeful_.”

“I’m not,” Effie said defensively. 

He watched her take a sip of coffee, keeping a suspicious eye on her expression, before he turned back toward the counter. “You want toast? I’ve got strawberry jam,” he offered.

“Sure,” she replied shortly.

Haymitch sliced the bread and ignored the growing silence in the room. He grabbed the skillet and turned on the stove.

“Haymitch Abernathy cooking on a stove. My, how times have changed,” she commented.

He glanced back at her, mildly irritated. “I have _always_ known how to make toast,” he argued. 

“Knowing how and actually making it are two different things,” Effie teased.

Haymitch gestured toward the pan. “You want breakfast or not?”

Effie pressed her lips together and returned her attention to her coffee.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grunted.

The silence stretched out again. Haymitch refused to let it make him feel uncomfortable. He finished toasting the bread, grabbed the jam out of the icebox, and brought everything over to the table in complete silence.

“Haymitch.”

He finished refilling his own coffee mug before turning to acknowledge her.

Those bright blue eyes were fixed him again, but now they were all sad. “You’re angry with me.”

He pressed his lips together, considering what to say. “No,” he answered, coming over and sitting down.

Effie had started to spread the jam on her toast, but seemed to have forgotten about it halfway. She was focused on him. “You can say so, if you are,” she said. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’m not,” Haymitch insisted. “Though I’m starting to get irritated, if that’s what you’re going for.” He looked pointedly at her plate. “Would you please eat? It’s getting cold, and I put a lot of effort into it,” he ended sarcastically.

That made a little smile tug at the corner of her mouth, and she reluctantly continued spreading her jam.

“Peeta and Katniss were over here earlier, but they headed down to the bakery to get started for the day,” Haymitch told her. “They had a lot to get done before this afternoon.”

“I’m actually fairly excited for today,” Effie responded with a smile. “I’ve never witnessed a celebration in District Twelve before.”

“Sure you did. You were here for Katniss and Peeta’s Victory Tour,” he reminded her.

“That’s not the same,” Effie said dismissively. “I practically planned that entire day myself, as I’m sure you remember.”

He did. She’d been insufferable, pestering him with questions about the traditional decor and food and festivities associated with the Harvest Festival in Twelve. She simply wouldn’t accept that the answers were ‘whatever we’ve got.’

“Well by Capitol standards, this Harvest Festival will be dull,” Haymitch warned, watching her take dainty bites of toast. “So keep your expectations really low, and you might find it tolerable.”

Effie gave him a look. “You’re always so cynical,” she said disapprovingly.

“I’m realistic,” he answered.

She didn’t respond. They fell into a more comfortable silence for a moment, and then she spoke again. “Did you say anything to the children about... what we talked about last night?”

Haymitch shook his head. “No.”

Effie looked relieved. “Good. Can we just keep it between us, for now?” she requested.

“Sure,” he replied. He wasn’t particularly inclined to tell them, either.

Her hand was close to his, resting on the handle of her coffee mug. He very badly wanted to reach across those few inches and take her hand in his.

He glanced up, and saw that she had noticed where his thoughts were headed. With a soft smile, she reached over and placed her hand over his, squeezing gently. “Thank you, Haymitch.” Her expression became serious. “I’m so sorry to put this all on you so suddenly. You must feel completely blindsided.” 

Before he had a chance to answer she went on, “I certainly never intended... well, it took me this long to accept that it was really happening, and to realize what I wanted...”

Haymitch nodded, and withdrew his hand. “I get it.” He didn’t mean to be brusque, but he also didn’t want to talk about it right then.

Effie looked embarrassed. She picked up her coffee again, nodding. “All right.”

The silence was awkward. Again. He hated how weird this was. He hated that he couldn’t openly flirt with her the way he wanted to. Everything was such a mess.

The hard thing about Effie was that while she was energetic and bossy and sometimes shallow and always unrelenting with her nagging, they actually shared a very strong bond. When she’d come to Twelve last time, it had been difficult not to get overly attached; especially since she had still been visibly struggling with the aftereffects of her imprisonment. Her nightmares were different than a Victor’s, but they still ended with her screaming and thrashing her way out of bed. He couldn’t help but feel protective, and guilty.

But Effie was still Effie, and Twelve was more depressing than ever. So what could he say to the woman he pined for, but also couldn’t stand, whom he had abandoned in a war, who had somehow found the ability to forgive him, who was accustomed to a luxurious lifestyle, when he was stuck living in the middle of the wilderness with few comforts and only a few hundred other people? Where was a relationship like that headed?

Haymitch hadn’t figured it out. Instead, he’d let her go home. He had always expected that she wouldn't stay, even if a tiny part of him secretly wished it was possible. But he’d missed her. Sometimes it had been fleeting; he would think of her and wonder if he should call, but then let it go. Other times, it had manifested as a dull ache in his torso, and lasted for days at a time. He’d self-medicated generously at those times.

And now she was here - she’d finally called, he had let himself look forward to her visit, let himself imagine what might happen between them while she was here - and now he had to keep distance _again_. Because anything that could be misconstrued as romantic would only get her hopes up that he might be willing to _have a kid._ The idea was so bizarre and so terrifying that he couldn't even quite fathom it.

Haymitch took another swig of his coffee. He just couldn’t let himself be alone with her for too long; that was the answer for now. He broke the awkward silence and asked, “You wanna go down and see the new bakery, then?”

Effie nodded, smiling. “I’d love to.”

He knew he could count on her impeccable manners, if nothing else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, all me. ENJOY

It took Effie and Haymitch another hour before they made it down to the bakery.

“Hey, there you guys are!” Peeta greeted them with a smile. He was wiping down the countertop in the back area of the bakery. 

“Yeah, you know me. I couldn’t decide what to wear,” Haymitch answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Effie made a face at him, but she smiled toward Peeta. “This is so cute, Peeta; do you do all of these?” she asked, looking at the cupcakes in the little display case.

“A lot of them. I’m teaching Grady to do some decorating, too.” He came around to the front, removing his apron as he walked. “We needed some extra help, and he’s actually pretty good at it. He did these,” he pointed at the miniature cupcakes that looked like little daisies.

“Adorable,” Effie approved.

“I tried to teach Katniss, but that was a hopeless cause,” he grinned. “I’m just about done here; you ready to head over? Katniss and Grady went ahead to help Greasy Sae set up her booth.”

Haymitch smirked a little at that - Greasy Sae was incredibly patient with her own granddaughter, but remarkably impatient with young Grady Cartwright. In her defense, the boy was a little bit of a dope. Nice, but dumb. Haymitch could only imagine how the setup was going.

“So, we’d better get over there,” Peeta added, catching his smirk.

They started the trek over to the square, and ran into Katniss and Grady long before reaching Greasy Sae’s booth on the other side.

“She kicked us out,” Katniss said wryly. “Said she didn’t need any more help.”

Haymitch snickered.

Katniss was holding back a smile. “Everything done at the bakery?” she asked Peeta.

“Done,” Peeta confirmed. He clapped Grady on the shoulder. “You are officially released.”

The boy smiled. “Thanks. I’m supposed to meet Delly and Robb around here ...Actually, I think I see them!” Sure enough, Delly Cartwright - Delly _Starcher_ , Haymitch reminded himself - was crossing toward them, husband and baby in tow. The way the man doted on that child, the way _both_ parents did... it was easy to see that they were thrilled beyond thrilled with their little one.

They bid Grady goodbye, and he took off toward his sister. It was a shame, Haymitch mused, that the mandate was put into effect right around the time Delly got pregnant. It must spoil the joy a little bit to know that everyone was wondering, if not assuming, that they’d had their child because of the law.

"I'm very excited to see everything," Effie was saying.

"Me too, actually," Peeta answered. "It’s never been done quite like this before, so it'll be a new experience for all of us."

"They've got the booths all around the edge," Katniss pointed out. "It looked to me like the one side is all the ones that have stuff for sale, and then the other side is all the contests and that sort of thing." She smirked. "You should have been here an hour or so ago. I guess they're competing to see who grew the biggest pumpkin - it took three grown men to carry the one. They almost dropped it, too."

They decided to start at one corner and make their way around the whole perimeter, to make sure they saw it all. It reminded Haymitch a little bit of the Hob, actually, except people were smiling and out in the open and selling things that people might actually want.

They neared the end of the square where the Justice Building used to stand, where a group of guys had broken out their fiddles and guitars and were starting to play. The sound was attracting a small crowd, and a few people were starting a dance. People in Twelve were particularly fond of dancing - Haymitch had never been inclined to join in. Peeta smiled, though, and took Katniss’s hand, but the girl’s face had turned stony. Haymitch was pretty sure he knew why.

“Why don’t we go say hello to Greasy Sae,” he suggested loudly. Her booth was on the opposite end of the square. Haymitch placed a hand on Effie’s back. “It’s been a full two hours since this one ate anything,” he joked.

Effie fixed him with an indignant look, but she clearly understood that he was trying to move them away from the gathering crowd. 

Peeta had no way of knowing, since he’d been confined in the hospital at the time, but Haymitch was fairly certain that the last time Katniss had danced was at Finnick and Annie’s wedding. He remembered seeing her on the floor, twirling with her sister.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Katniss agreed, abruptly turning and stalking away from the musicians. Peeta shot a confused glance toward Haymitch before he hustled ahead to catch up with her.

Effie watched them go with a look of worry. “Is she...?”

“She’ll be all right,” Haymitch said firmly. He squeezed Effie’s shoulder before pulling his hand away.

They followed the kids at a slower pace, walking shoulder to shoulder. “You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself, Haymitch,” she commented.

“Well, Harvest Festival isn’t exactly my thing,” he responded.

“Having _fun_ isn’t exactly your thing,” Effie retorted.  

He rolled his eyes. “Never had much use for it,” he admitted.

“What _is_ your thing, Haymitch?” she asked. “Now that being miserable to me and overthrowing the government are behind you?”

He smiled, slightly grim. “I don’t know. Not really sure that either of those things _are_ behind me.”  

Effie let out a sigh. “You enjoy being difficult,” she remarked. 

“It does get you all riled up,” Haymitch pointed out. It was a game he’d sometimes played to himself, back when she caked on all that makeup, to see if he could make her blush right through it. Usually it was just as amusing to see the obvious contrast between her neck and her face.

“You like that, do you?” she asked, fake-angrily.

He smirked at her. “You know I do.”

Truthfully though, he wasn’t really enjoying himself. This was fine, what the district restoration team was trying to do - celebrate the fact that Twelve was growing and thriving by bringing new meaning to an old tradition - but Harvest Festival only came in behind Reaping Day on the list of his least favorite ‘holidays.’ The celebration had always coincided with the Victory Tour, which meant that he had to drag himself out of his house and down to the square, try not to puke on the visiting District’s escort or any of Twelve’s big-wigs while they showed images of the latest kids he’d failed to bring home, and avoid any kind of contact with the families of the aforementioned kids. The association between _that_ and Harvest Festival had completely ruined it for him.

"I can hardly believe how many people are here. I didn't realize there were this many in the District," Peeta commented when they got to the line for Sae's booth.

It was pretty busy. The line moved quickly, but there wasn't time to do more than to buy a bowl of stew and say 'hello' to Greasy Sae. Still, they were able to find a table. Katniss stared into her bowl, eating and ignoring everyone else’s presence.

“Happy Harvest Festival, everybody!” 

A jovial, middle-aged man stood at the end of their table. Haymitch greeted him warmly. “Hey, Cal. The man of the hour.”

“Oh, knock it off,” the man said good-naturedly, waving a greeting to someone at an adjoining table.

Peeta stood up for a handshake. “Congratulations! The festival really came together." 

“Thanks; yeah, everybody seems to be enjoying themselves. So far, it looks like a success,” he answered, obviously attempting modesty but clearly proud.

“Care to join us?” Peeta offered.

“Yeah, I can sit for a few minutes," he replied cheerfully. Peeta made room on the bench next to him. "Good to see you guys; Katniss...” She nodded. Calvin looked straight at Effie, eyes slightly narrowed, as if he was trying to place her.

Haymitch glanced between them. “Calvin, did you ever meet Effie?” he asked nonchalantly.

Calvin's expression changed to one of recognition. “I _thought_ that was you. Yes, we met when you visited several years ago.”

Effie had on her brightest smile. “So nice to see you again.”

“Good to see you, too,” he replied, to his credit, without any irony.

“Calvin leads the District 12 Restoration Team,” Peeta told Effie. “They were responsible for putting this whole event together.”

Calvin smiled. “It’s the first year. There are kinks to work out, but we did our best. I’m sure it pales in comparison to what you’re used to,” he said to her.

Effie was in her element. “Oh, don’t be silly. It’s simply delightful. You've done a _wonderful_ job.”

“You’re too kind,” Calvin grinned.

“You know, the two of you are in a similar line of work, actually. What’s the name of the group you’re working with, Effie?” Peeta asked.

“The City Beautification Task-Force,” she supplied. “It’s a governmental committee. My task is essentially creating design proposals for public places that were damaged or destroyed during the war.”

“Impressive,” Calvin commented.

“Yeah,” Haymitch interjected, unable to stop himself. “How exactly did you land yourself that one?”

Effie turned a piercing look on him. “Connections, obviously,” she said. “But I’m _highly_ qualified, if that’s what you’re implying. I majored in visual design when I went to the university, with a primary focus on architectural history and design.”

Haymitch stared at her.

“You know that, Haymitch. You’ve known that for years. We’ve _talked_ about it,” she insisted.

He definitely didn’t remember ever having a conversation about _architecture_ with Effie Trinket.

“ _Anyway,_ ” she went on, turning back to Calvin, “I create concepts, and then they go through an approval process before they’re implemented. So I don’t know if that’s similar to what you do...” 

They fell into a conversation about the restoration committee, which Haymitch was happy to tune out of. He’d been a little worried that Calvin might be inclined to be less than friendly to her, since she’d become Twelve’s Escort probably right around the time he’d been of Reaping age, but... He watched Calvin carefully for signs that he was in any way hostile towards her, but he looked singularly at ease. Of course, Calvin and Peeta were two peas in a pod - they could make friendly conversation with almost anyone.

His attention started to wander. There _were_ a lot of people here. Haymitch was a bit surprised, but then Calvin was always repeating “from three hundred to three thousand!” like it was his stump speech. No doubt, that man had his mind on elected office; he was utterly transparent, at least to Haymitch. Not that it was a bad thing. If the success of this festival was any indication, he would do good things for the district.

His attention suddenly rushed back to the present when a particular brunette lady came into his field of vision. She was still several yards away, walking arm in arm with her partner. Calvin hadn’t seen her, since his back was toward her.

The woman’s pregnancy was really starting to show. Haymitch didn’t think it had been that long, but it must have been - she was huge.

He tried not to look at her, hoping that she’d magically go somewhere else if he ignored intensely enough.

Unfortunately, perhaps deliberately, the couple continued to walk toward them, and paused only a few feet away to have a conversation about where to sit.

Katniss had seen them. She glanced toward Haymitch, then looked back down at her bowl.

Naturally, the woman, Laurie, pointed toward the open seats at the table right across from them. Right in Calvin’s line of vision.

The moment he noticed them, his face fell. He stopped mid-sentence in his spirited conversation with Effie, and scowled. For a long moment, he seemed to be suppressing whatever his natural reaction was.

Haymitch held his breath.

“I’ve gotta go,” Calvin said, with a dark look. “I’ll see you around.” 

He stood up, holding himself tall, and stalked away.

Haymitch sighed and frowned, though that could have gone _much_ worse. He saw Peeta and Katniss exchange a glance.

“Well, that was abrupt,” Effie commented. “Would anyone care to explain what happened?”

Haymitch continued to frown. This wasn’t the time or the place to explain.

“Long story,” Katniss said in a low voice.

“Yeah, we’ll tell you later,” Peeta added, looking briefly toward Laurie.

“C’mon.” Haymitch stood up. “We should free this table up, it’s getting crowded.”

Effie and Peeta followed, though Katniss hung behind for a moment. She was saying hello to Laurie. 

"Well," Effie said, bubbly once more. "Shall we continue our trek around the booths?"

"Yeah, sure," Peeta answered absently, watching the exchange Katniss was having.

Haymitch clapped his arm lightly. "Stop staring."

"Sorry." He turned toward Effie. "Yeah, we should check out the other side."

Katniss was coming toward them now, and Effie sidled up to her. "Ready, my dear? I want to see this enormous pumpkin you told us about."

They made their way over to the booth where they were displaying the pumpkins, but Effie was far more impressed with the small, palm-sized pumpkins that served as little more than decoration than the huge one. "They're so tiny; oh, it's so  _cute!"_

Haymitch tagged along as they explored the remaining displays. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was surrounded by _babies_. Delly, Laurie, everywhere he looked someone was pregnant or carrying an infant or trying to control an unruly toddler. _Even the pumpkins have little tiny pumpkins with them_ , he thought sarcastically.

He didn’t quite get it. Between the poverty, and the Games, and then the war, he’d experienced and seen enough suffering. He hated the idea of creating a little copy of himself, who would have to live through their very own struggle to survive. There would be nothing he could do to protect them. No guarantee the world would be much better than before. That’s why he had never wanted children.

But... that wasn’t exactly true, he suddenly remembered. There had been a time, a long, long time ago, when a family had been something he could see in his future. A time when he’d imagined being a father, being the head of a household... Back before the Capitol took hold of his meager life and squeezed every bit of hope out of him.

Back with Moira. A ball of ice instantly froze in his chest where his heart ought to be, at the thought of her. They had talked about getting married, about having a family... She’d been older than him by a year. At first he hadn’t understood why she would want children, knowing what squalor they lived in and what danger those children would be in... but Moira was fiery. She’d wanted children because she loved them, and according to her, not to have them just because of the threat of the Games was letting the Capitol _win_.   

She could have led the revolution. Haymitch would have followed her.

But they hadn’t dreamed of revolution. At sixteen and seventeen years old, they had imagined a life together in their District, raising their children together, making sure their children’s lives turned out better than their own. Defying the Capitol by prospering in spite of it all. By being happy. By loving each other.

Of course, then Haymitch had been Reaped for the Quell. Then he’d murdered children and watched others die. Then he’d made a mockery of the Capitol and angered President Snow. 

And then he’d come home to nothing but ashes.

Haymitch shook his head, clearing the memories. He imagined her voice, sometimes, screaming out for him, but of course it wasn’t real. He had never heard her screams of agony. Or his mother’s. Or his brother’s.

“Haymitch?”

His eyes refocused, and he realized that Peeta was standing next to him, looking worried. “You okay?” the young man asked.

“Fine,” Haymitch answered gruffly. 

Peeta wasn’t convinced. “You look really pale. Do you need to sit down for a minute?” 

“No,” he responded. “I’m fine.” 

Effie and Katniss had turned back toward them; both wore looks of concern. “Are you all right?” Katniss asked, coming closer. 

Haymitch rolled his eyes and did his best to look exasperated. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just old and out of breath.”

Effie zeroed in on him with a sharp look. She glanced at his hands; of course she did, she knew they’d be shaking. He glanced down himself to verify it. God, he wanted a drink so badly, but he was trying to keep it to a reasonable amount while Effie was here... 

“Why don’t we head back,” Effie suggested. 

He shook his head. “No, we don’t need to do that.” 

“Nonsense,” she chirped. “We’ve gotten around to everything we wanted to see, didn’t we?” She looked to Katniss and Peeta for affirmative glances. “You look tired; and to be honest I’d like to get off my feet pretty soon. These heels might be lower, but they’re certainly not more comfortable.”

Haymitch frowned at her. She was good at getting her way once she’d made up her mind. He hated to be the cause for them to leave the festival early, but Effie was already starting toward the road, with her arm looped through Peeta’s. 

Katniss hung back with him for a moment. “What is it?” she asked.

She was astute; there wasn’t much that got by her. It was one of her more annoying traits.

“Nothing,” he replied gruffly, following after Effie and Peeta, but he could sense the girl watching him as they made their way back toward the Victor’s Village.

“So what happened with your friend Calvin earlier?” Effie asked curiously.

Haymitch sighed audibly. Katniss frowned. Peeta looked at Haymitch as if he expected him to answer, but Haymitch had no intention of opening his mouth. 

“He saw his ex-wife,” Peeta finally said.

Effie looked between them all. “That’s it? _That’s_ what you’re all so uncomfortable about?” Her eyes went straight to Haymitch. “What’s the story there?”

He scowled at her for a moment. “Marriages don’t split here the way they do in the Capitol -”

“ _Panem City_ ,” she corrected him.

“...it’s not a common thing. And they broke up because of this baby-mandate,” he ended brusquely, doing his best _not_ to give her a significant look.

Peeta moved closer to Katniss, taking her hand.

Effie’s eyebrow arched ever so slightly. Haymitch added, “The whole thing got pretty ugly. Pretty public, too.” 

“Really,” she said, in that irritating low voice she always used for juicy gossip.

"Yeah. Most people who knew them kinda feel like they have to choose a side, at this point-"

"Which is  _ridiculous_ ; they're both our friends," Peeta interrupted.

“Is it, though? That’s not half of it,” Katniss said flatly, looking angrily at Haymitch before facing Effie. “Laurie’s older than Calvin, and she fell into the higher age bracket, the ones who had to get pregnant by last month. And Calvin abandoned her.”

“Abandoned isn’t the right word,” Haymitch argued. “He didn’t want to cooperate with the law.”

“Still,” Peeta responded, “He wasn’t in the position she was. He’s not required to do anything for another two years.”

“And it left her to try to find someone in Twelve willing to have a kid with her _really_ fast,” Katniss added.

Haymitch frowned at her. “You’ve said yourself that no one’s going to _make_ you have a kid.”

The girl shook her head. “That’s me, that’s my choice. Peeta knows how I feel. Calvin should _not_ have strung her along for that long.”  

“She knew how he felt about it!” Haymitch exclaimed. “He didn’t ‘string her along’.”

“He knew she was scared. He knew she wanted to give in to the mandate. He should have ended it himself,” Katniss said adamantly. She looked at Effie. “Laurie ended up leaving him for some factory worker who moved here from Six.”

Peeta chimed in. “Calvin got pretty bent out of shape about it. Which I get, absolutely, I mean they'd been together forever, married for a couple years now, but... Really, I don’t know what he wanted her to do...”

“He wanted her to stand up to the law,” Haymitch said. “Refuse to cooperate.”

“That’s a lot easier for someone to say who has two years to change his mind,” Katniss growled. “And it’s _much_ easier for a _man_ to say, in this situation. What are the consequences for him?”  

Haymitch didn’t answer. Of course it was easier for a man; 'mandatory participation' in human reproduction could be a once-and-done sort of deal for a man, instead of an extended, life-changing commitment. 

" _Exactly_ ," Katniss said firmly. "Essentially  _nothing_."

Haymitch glanced at Effie. She was watching him with hawk-like interest, though her eyes flicked away when he looked at her. Remarkably, she made no comment. 

The rest of the walk back to the house was a bit quiet. Peeta mostly tried to keep conversation going, but Effie was not as chatty as usual. Haymitch tried to fill in a little bit, but small talk was not his game.

As they neared the kids’ house, the topic of Peeta’s artwork came up, and Peeta suggested showing Effie their memory book. Haymitch didn’t know if he thought it was as good an idea as they did, showing it to her. He wasn't in any mood to peruse a book full of dead loved ones. She was interested, though, so he hovered behind them and glanced over their shoulders when they brought it out and let her page through.

Effie seemed to be deeply moved by the book. She turned the pages slowly, taking time to absorb each image. “Peeta, you did all the drawings?” she asked, and he nodded. “You’ve really captured them,” she remarked softly. 

She kept paging through, pausing at the people she’d known: Cinna, Finnick, Mags, Chaff... She put her hand over Katniss’s when she got to Prim. 

Haymitch crept closer as she got further in, feeling an anxious knot forming in his gut.

Effie’s breath drew in sharply when she reached the first drawing of a tribute she recognized. Her hand lifted up to cover her mouth as she absorbed the picture and brief scribbling of text. Haymitch stepped close and put his hand on her shoulder. As if by reflex, she reached up and put her hand over his.

They were her first tributes; the first ones she’d ever Reaped. He remembered them particularly well because it had been her first year, and she’d been so hopeful, gotten way too attached.

He caught a glance from Katniss, but he ignored it; likewise for Peeta. This wasn’t their memory; this one belonged to him and to Effie. She was silent, but he could feel her grief through the way she was squeezing his hand.

Eventually, very solemnly, she turned to the next page, and was faced with two more of her tributes. She let out a little noise of recognition, and squeezed his hand again. She stared at the pages for a long moment, running her fingers down the edge of the parchment. Haymitch's throat felt tight. Katniss and Peeta were starting to look uncomfortable.

Effie cleared her throat, betraying the emotion creeping up on her, before she turned her head toward him. “Have you done all of them?” she asked softly.

Haymitch shook his head. “The ones I remember. We do a page every so often, when I think of someone.”

Effie nodded, looking back down at the book.

“You don’t have to go through the whole thing,” he said. “Not right now, anyway.”

She nodded again, slowly. “I do want to finish looking through it.” She closed the book carefully. “Another time.”

She ran her fingers over the leather cover for a moment, and they were all quiet.

“I’m sorry, Effie,” Katniss said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Effie answered emphatically, placing her hand on the girl’s arm. “It’s a beautiful way to honor them. I’m so glad you shared it with me.”

None of them had any response to that, other than pensive silence. 

“Well,” Haymitch said, finally breaking the silence with his most caustic voice, “This has been about as cheerful as Harvest Festival usually is, sweetheart. You’re getting the authentic experience.” He squeezed her shoulder gently before letting go.

They all exhaled. Katniss nodded grimly; Peeta was less than amused but shrugged in agreement. Effie smiled weakly.  

She was upset, though; he could see it in her rigid posture. When she excused herself to the bathroom, Haymitch waited until she was all the way down the hall to turn a disparaging look on the kids. “Nice going, geniuses.” 

Katniss bridled at his jab, but Peeta hung his head. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking about... I just wasn’t thinking.” He walked the book back over to the shelf where they kept it.

“Obviously,” Haymitch responded sarcastically.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you objecting when we suggested it,” Katniss bit back.

He made a face. “You didn’t hear me jumping on board, either; did you?”

“So now we’re supposed to wait for your enthusiasm before we do anything?” she deadpanned. “All we’d ever do is sit around and drink.”

“And everyone would be happier for it,” Haymitch growled back.

Effie took a while to come back, which wasn’t unexpected, but Haymitch started to worry whether she was all right. It'd been pretty clear last night that she wasn't beyond the point of breaking down or having flashbacks. 

So much for avoiding being alone together.

He walked in the direction she’d gone and found her at the end of the hall, gazing at the painting hanging on the wall there. “Hey,” he said quietly, standing next to her. “You all right?” 

Effie didn’t look away from the painting. “Fine,” she answered.

“I should’ve warned you about what was in the book. I’m sorry. They forget that all this stuff affected you, too.”

Effie answered in her overly-breathy tone, “They didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll be fine.” She turned her head to look at him. “Are _you_ all right?”

He squared his shoulders. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You did not look good earlier,” she commented.

He did _not_ want to get into that; so he turned it around: “But I’m looking pretty good now, huh?”  

Effie cast a critical eye over him. “You’ve certainly looked worse,” she commented, scrutinizing his clothes. “But you may want to invest in an iron.”

He snorted. “Right.”

She shook her head disapprovingly, and looked back toward the painting. He understood why it would intrigue her, it was probably his favorite that Peeta had done: the image of a warm, sunny spring in Twelve, and a little brown-haired girl walking away down a path toward the Seam.

He became aware of Effie’s shoulder pressing lightly against his arm. He didn’t feel inclined to move away.  

“It’s Katniss, isn’t it?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Haymitch confirmed, though he added, “I’ve never actually asked him.”  

She smiled slightly. “It’s strange to think that she was so little, once.”

He agreed, and felt his face flush. But he frowned. That look on Effie's face, the gentle smile, the way she was studying the child in the painting... it all made him feel sick. Here they were, talking about _kids_ again...

Effie seemed to realize that she’d made him uncomfortable, and cleared her throat. After a moment, she turned to look at him, and spoke softly. “I’m glad you remember Tessa and Naythan.”

The tributes’ faces floated to the surface of his memory: gaunt, terrified, pathetic. Luck would have it that Effie had pulled the names of a thirteen year old and a twelve year old on her first year.

“I'm a little surprised you do,” Effie admitted quietly.

Haymitch frowned more. He’d been drunk, but not even he could get drunk enough to forget something like that. “Certain years stick out more than others. Their’s definitely does,” he answered.

She nodded in silent agreement.

It had been a traumatic initiation into being an Escort, having her first tributes murdered execution-style, on their knees; throats cut by the boy from One while the rest of the Career pack jeered and laughed. 

“Do their families still live here?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, with some shame. “I don’t think so, I don’t remember having seen them... I don’t know if they made it out. During the war.”

From what he could see in his sidelong glance, Effie looked incredibly sad. “That makes the book even more important, then, doesn’t it?”

Haymitch grunted his agreement.

“Can we talk about something else?” he requested suddenly, not sure that he could stand much more reminiscing.

She glanced at him, seemed nervous for some reason. “Did you have something specific in mind?”

He shook his head. “No. Just... I’d say ‘anything’, but...” But then it seemed like every other topic of conversation they hit upon was either painful or terrifying.

“I’m sorry.” She touched his arm. “I really didn’t come here to torment you, I promise,” she apologized. 

“You sure?” Haymitch asked, intending to be teasing, but it came out a little rough. “‘Cause you’re succeeding at it.” They were facing each other. His comment made the color rise in her cheeks.

Effie responded defensively. “It’s not intentional.”

"I know," he answered quickly. He kept his hands shoved safely into his pockets. "I know," he said again, more reassuring. 

They were standing too close.

It was Effie who moved first. She took a step back, squeezing his arm before she let go. "Good." She turned and walked down the hall toward the living area. "Peeta, I simply  _must_ know about the inspiration for this painting..."

Haymitch took a deep breath and sighed before following her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am SO sorry it took me this long to update. This is the longest story I've ever written, and most of it is finished, but certain parts (like this chapter) give me headaches. Hopefully it was okay. Let me know what you thought!


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